


Rumor Has it...

by DorthyAnn (JenniferMarie)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-07 02:20:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11049282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferMarie/pseuds/DorthyAnn
Summary: Rumor has it Harry Potter was in Draco Malfoy's bed, or perhaps it was Draco Malfoy was caught in Harry Potter's bed? It's always hard to say where rumors are concerned.





	1. Part 1

Harry stared at the windowsill as the first hint of dawn light crested over the steep Scottish countryside around Hogwarts. All around him, Harry’s dormmates snored and shifted in their sleep, though the heavy brocade curtains pulled around each bed muffled most of the sound. He stifled a yawn, wishing he could fall back to sleep but the vague haunting nightmare that had jolted him awake an hour ago still clung to the edge of his mind.

“…Harry…”

Harry leaned forward, his ears straining after the faint voice he could have sworn called his name.

Just as he was about to give up and relax back against his headboard, he heard it again, the same voice though Harry couldn’t make out any words. He slipped out of bed, flinching at the cold of the stone floor, and walked quietly down the rows of beds, two houses worth in one large room that had been empty for years until the eighth years needed it.

Harry paused nervously at the end of the room, the Slytherin end. His body swayed backward, ready to bolt back to his bed in a heartbeat.

“…just want to…”

Harry caught the faint mumble and turned towards it, a little shiver of anxiety going up his back as he faced Draco’s bed. He edged to the side of the bed, parting the curtains just a crack.

Draco was curled in the center of his bed. He had kicked his blankets down to his waist. Draco’s fine white blond hair, normally so neat, was mussed and splayed across his pillow. He looked younger, his face relaxed and gentled in sleep.

As Harry watched, Draco’s brow furrowed, murmuring faintly into his pillow.

Harry leaned down, head and shoulders slipping through the curtains to try and hear what Draco was saying.

Draco sighed, frowning faintly, “…sorry, Harry.”

Harry startled so badly he almost fell, clutching to the curtain to keep himself upright, the canopy above him groaning ominously at the sudden weight. Light filled the once dark enclosure and Harry held his breath, not daring to move a muscle.

Draco opened one eye, squinting against the light. He blinked blearily as he studied Harry’s face with a faint smile that only grew more blinding as Harry watched. Draco had been very careful around Harry since they had come back to school, almost painfully polite when he wasn’t avoiding Harry altogether. Harry knew because he had spent a great deal of time watching Draco with a growing sense of frustration every time he veered to avoid Harry or school his face carefully blank as he spouted mindless bland pleasantries.

Now, though, Draco was smiling up Harry like he was his personal sun.

It made Harry feel breathless. He couldn’t remember seeing a smile like that before, not on Draco, not on anyone. He didn’t quite understand how he was the one responsible for it.

Draco rolled onto his back and reached up to Harry. His hands curled around the back of Harry’s neck, skating across his skin and into the short hair at the base of his neck. Harry shivered, watching as Draco slowly blinked and couldn’t quite manage to open them again, sighing sleepily.

It had been one of the more fascinating discoveries, rooming with the Slytherin’s, that Draco was absolutely not a morning person. Blaise would usually wake him and guide Draco through his morning routine like a drill sergeant as Draco stumbled along. It took at least two cups of coffee before Draco could even string a complete sentence together.

Harry reached up, covering Draco’s hand loosely with his own. Harry knew he should wake Draco up or at least leave but the trouble was  _he really didn’t want to_.

It had been Ginny, of all people, to point out to Harry that his growing re-obsession with Draco was likely because he fancied him. It had shaken the foundations of Harry’s world. Until then he really hadn’t considered boys in the realm of romance but once it had been pointed out there was no going back.

There were whole swaths of Harry’s memory that suddenly had entirely different contexts, his admiration of Wood, a mild crush, his despair over Cedric, his first proper crush and not Cho, though, he did probably fancy her a bit as well. And Draco Malfoy, who he had noticed right away in the Madam Malkin’s robe shop, and went right on noticing for the rest of his life like a magpie drawn to glitter and no one shone quite like Draco.

It felt like the final piece to a puzzle that had evaded him for years and he had finally solved it. That made it all the more frustrating that now Draco wanted nothing to do with him.

Or so he had thought.

Harry shivered and leaned into Draco’s touch as his fingers lazily pulled through Harry’s messy curls.

Draco frowned slightly, his hand pulling Harry down towards him, “M’ here,” he murmured with annoyance.

Harry felt the last of his resistance vanish. He eased through the curtains, kneeling on the edge of the bed and letting Draco guide him. He ended up with his head on Draco’s arm as Draco rolled onto his side so they were face to face. Draco’s hand lazily traced it’s way down from Harry’s neck, over his shoulder and down across his back, holding him possessively for a few brief moments before relaxing.

Harry pulled his feet onto the bed, the curtains swinging mostly closed behind him and filling the small space with a faint muted light. He pulled his glasses off and set them up on the corner of the bed out of the way, he could smell Draco’s sweet citrusy shampoo clinging to the pillow and to Draco.

Harry shifted closer, holding his breath a little when Draco frowned faintly and letting it out when Draco just pressed his face deeper into his pillow, his mouth brushing across Harry’s hair.

Harry had never been this close to Draco before, dreamed of it, but never thought it could ever be a reality. He watched Draco’s eyelashes flutter across his cheeks, a shade darker than his hair. Draco mouth pursed faintly, lips pressing thin and then relaxing, soft and pink. Harry could make out the beginnings of wrinkles creased into Draco’s forehead, too faint to be noticeable yet but so like Harry’s own. In five or six years they would both start to look far older than their years.

Feeling caught half in a dream himself, Harry reached up between them and hesitantly traced the line of Draco’s jaw. His fingertips sliding across smooth, soft skin. No stubble. Lucius had always been very smooth shaven as well. Harry wondered what Draco would look like with stubble or a beard and flushed at the mental picture.

Draco made a faint grumbling noise that seemed to be trapped in his chest like the rumble of an earthquake. His hand, draped over Harry’s back, slid down, catching Harry’s arm and pulling it down between them.

Harry caught his own disappointment in a sigh, pulling his hand down with Draco’s. He pressed Draco’s fingers wide against his own, longer and thinner, elegant and neat much like Draco himself. His heart stuttered and tightened in his chest with the sudden realization of how intimate and private this felt, a moment Harry had manufactured out of Draco’s sleepy unawareness, knowing-  _Knowing_ \- he wouldn’t have been welcome if Draco had been awake.

“Draco?” Harry said, wincing at the worry and desperation laced in his own voice. When Draco didn’t respond Harry laced his fingers with Draco and squeezed.

Draco’s eyelashes fluttered, his eyes opening slowly. His expression was still soft and clouded with sleep.

“Draco?” Harry repeated, wanting to draw Draco into wakefulness, wanting confirmation, recognition, something to make this real.

Draco responded by tipping his head, pressing soft lips against Harry’s brow that had furrowed with worry.

Harry’s breath stuttered in his chest and it took every bit of self-control he had not to kiss Draco right then and there. “Do you know it’s me?” Harry asked.

“Too loud,” Draco said irritably.

“Draco,” Harry said insistently, squeezing his hand.

“ _Harry_ ,” Draco said sarcastically, blinking rapidly, his brow furrowing as he tried to focus.

“Yes, it’s me,” Harry smiled, warmth flooding his chest as he leaned forward, brushing his lips across Draco’s.

Draco squeezed his hand, chasing after Harry’s mouth before he could pull away and kissed him sweetly. He untangled their hands, reaching up and cradling Harry’s cheek. “I’m dreaming,” he said breathlessly.

Harry shook his head, “I promise you’re not.” They were so so close Harry could make out every detail of Draco’s face, from an old faded scar on his cheek to the freckles of blue in his eyes.

“I have to be,” Draco said, “This could never happen.”

Harry felt a sickening jolt go through his gut.

Draco’s eyes widened as he frantically studied Harry’s expression, “I didn’t mean-”

“TIME FOR BREAKFAST, SLEEPING BEAUTY!” Blaise yelled boisterously, light flooded over them as the curtains were flung open.

Draco jumped back in shock.

Harry felt his cheeks grow hot as he awkwardly sat up, grabbing his glasses and quickly pushing past Blaise.

  
  



	2. The Interlude

Draco had been dreaming.  _Dreaming_. He was certain of it.

He had been trying to apologize to Harry, it was a dream he had quite often. But no matter how he begged and pleaded, no matter how loud or soft he was, Harry couldn’t seem to hear him. And when he tried to bridge the distance between them, Draco found himself fixed in place, fighting against a pull as thick as tar. Then Harry would turn and walk away without ever having even seen him.

This time, though, something broke the spell holding him in place, a flash of bright light, and Harry was right there. He often had this dream as well, though, the two usually didn’t occur during the same night. Draco had reached out to Harry and pulled him into his arms. The dream had been so vivid he could feel Harry’s hair, smell his shampoo. He was so warm.

He was annoying as well, moving and touching and saying Draco’s name over and over again like an insistent mantra which was strange. Even in his more indulgent dreams Harry only ever called him ‘Malfoy’. He had a hard time fathoming any sort of scenario in which Harry Potter would call him by his first name, but he had, did, and kissed him. Draco could still see when he closed his eyes. It was burned into the back of his eyelids, the way Harry had looked at him, first fondly and then with hurt and betrayal as Draco said the wrong thing, the absolute perfect wrong thing to ruin everything and Blaise to finish the job.

“Holy fuck,” Blaise said hoarsely, still watching Harry as he quickly grabbed his things from his trunk and disappeared into the bathroom. Around them, conversations were starting up and growing louder, filled with questions and conjecture. “Holy fuck!” Blaise sat on the edge of Draco’s bed, pulling the curtains shut behind his back, muting some of the noise, “Did that just happen? I’m not hallucinating, am I? Because I feel like I must be hallucinating.”

Draco stared blankly at Blaise’s chest feeling vaguely like he was shattering very slowly from the inside out.

“Are you awake?” Blaise grabbed his shoulder, giving it a brief squeeze before going for a hearty shake.

Draco pushed his hand away, “You’re not helping.”

“Neither are you, my friend,” Blaise said, more carefully pulling Draco up into a sitting position, “Was it a trick? A prank?”

Draco frowned.

“Not by Potter,” Blaise said quickly with the wave of his hand, “He’s not the type to be cruel. Someone else maybe.” His voice dropped to something gentler, a tone he would only use around Draco and Pansy when they were alone, “If it were real you would have said something, wouldn’t you?-”

“Blaise,” Draco said weakly, trying to stop this conversation before it started.

“-You’ve been wanting him for-”

“ _Blaise_.” Draco said insistently, fumbling his wand out from under his pillow and casting a hasty muffling spell.

“-years now. If he even showed the slightest interest in you, you’d be all over him-”

“Must you?!”

“-like a dog in heat. Although, Pansy did think Potter’s been watching you again so maybe-”

“I  _will_  hex you,” Draco said flatly brandishing his wand.

Blaise’s mouth snapped shut and he put his hands up in an exaggerated show of surrender, never losing his easy smile.

Draco slowly lowered his wand, wanting nothing more than to crawl back under his blankets, for the rest of his life, if possible.

“So what happened?” Blaise asked.

Draco sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I was dreaming and at some point, the dream ended and Potter became reality.”

“Just tell me, you sodding prat,” Blaise said.

“Yes! Do tell!” Pansy said excitedly, slipping through the curtains and bouncing onto the bed next to Draco, she was wearing her school blouse, tie slung loosely around her neck, and a lavender pair of sleep pants covered in pastel green hearts. “I came as soon as I heard the rumors! Potter’s in a complete state! His Weasel’s completely blown his top, he’d gone so red you couldn’t see his freckles!”

Blaise raised a hand, hovering it over Pansy’s mouth, “Not now Pans, we’ve got to get the goods first.”

Pansy nodded seriously. Blaise dropped his hand and they both turned to Draco expectantly.

Draco sighed, grabbing his pillow and squeezing it tightly to his chest, and told them everything he could remember.

The general consensus, once he was done, was that he had royally cocked up.

“ _But_ ,” Pansy said as they walked down to the dining hall for late breakfast, “even though it’s totally fucked, you’re still in a better position than you were before.”

“How, in Merlin’s name, is this any better than not saying the absolute wrong thing at the wrong time without being able to explain or apologize?” Draco said sulkily.

“Because, dumbass,” Pansy said, bumping him with her shoulder, “before you thought you didn’t have a snowflake’s chance in hell and now you  _know_  Potter’s interested.”

“So long as he wasn’t dosed with a love potion,” Blaise said cheerfully.

“ _Shut. Up._ _Blaise_ ,” Pansy said icily. She shook her head with a huff, “You let  _me_  worry about love potions. You need to think about how you’re going to apologize.” She caught the sulking expression on Draco’s face and grabbed hold of his arm so fiercely he was afraid her nails might cut right through his shirt, “You listen to me, Draco Malfoy,” she hissed, jabbing a pointed nail in his face, “We did not suffer through six- _goddamn_ -years of listening to you rant and moan about Potter for you to  fuck this up.  _Do you understand me_?”

Draco nodded, because there was no other option in the face of Pansy’s wrath.

  
  



	3. Part 2

Draco shivered. He wanted to wrap himself up in a blanket but knew if he did he’d fall asleep. There was still a great deal of rustling and not nearly enough sleeping in the beds around him. He had decided to wait until night to try and talk to Harry. It was, he reasoned, the best chance he had to talk to him alone and without fear of interruption. It may have also been the case that he couldn’t have gotten close to Harry all day long even if he had wanted to, not with Granger and Weasley hovering.

There were risks to this method. The worst, being caught and making the rumors worse. Luckily, only Blaise had seen them clearly so everything whispered around the school at present was vague and largely conjecture. Most seemed to think Harry had snuck into Draco’s bed on some sort of secret mission, either to gather evidence of Draco’s evil plans or to assassinate him. Both ideas were laughable if for no other reason than Harry was never that subtle and Draco’s life had been constantly monitored by the aurors since the trials. He hadn’t the time, nor the stupidity, required for evil plans. He hardly had time for his NEWTs which was the whole reason he was here.

Pansy assured him that Potter wasn’t under the effects of a love potion. He had had his doubts but Pansy had snuck into the hospital wing where Harry’s friends had dragged him under the assumption he was dosed. They had all been wrong. Harry wasn’t under the effect of any love potion or manipulative magic of any kind.

Draco sighed, his eyes closing briefly and fighting down a yawn. He had waited long enough. It had to be long enough because if he waited another minute he would absolutely die of exhaustion and boredom. He pushed his curtains back and cast a silencing spell around his feet, making no sound except for his breathing as he made his way down the rows of bed to Harry’s.

Harry had the bed by the door tucking into the corner and as he got closer Draco could hear the bed creaking as Harry thrashed, his breathing rapid. A nightmare. Harry had a lot of nightmares and it felt mildly horrifying how easily his fellow Gryffindor’s slept through them. Blaise had asked about it and apparently, Harry had nightmares through most of school, especially the last couple years, and they all just got used to it. They said it wasn’t worth trying to wake him up.

Draco pushed back the curtains and found Harry clutching his blankets to his chest like a lifeline, sweat soaking the black mop of hair sticking to his forehead. His brow was twisted together, his eyes frantically flicking back and forth beneath his eyelids. He was wearing a shockingly large tee shirt and a pair of faded grey boxers that had pushed up, showing most of Harry’s legs, tan skin with wiry black hair

Draco wasn’t sure how to go about this. He wasn’t sure how to go about anything in this situation. He wasn’t proud to admit it but he was a reactive person, not a proactive one. People had always come to him first, power and money had that effect, at least up to recently. His family was still quite wealthy but even that would not get most people to touch him with a ten-foot broomstick, hit him certainly, but any sort of benign contact, no.

He sighed silently and sat on the edge of the bed and gave Harry’s shoulder the mildest shake he could manage. Draco gasped but the air was gone from his lungs before he could even fully comprehend what had happened except that he was on his back, the edge of the bed digging into his spine, Harry leaning over him, one hand on Draco’s shoulder. His other hand was holding his wand which he had pressed to Draco’s temple.

When the initial shock had passed, Draco fell back on his old friend, bitter sarcasm, “Well now I can see why no one tries to wake you up.”

Harry blinked and twitched backward, quickly pulling his wand away in shock, “Draco?” he hissed.

Draco took a deep breath to fortify himself and raised an eyebrow, “Quite.”

“What are you-? Why are you-?” Harry floundered.

“Do those questions have endings or is this a fill in the blank exercise?” Draco said.

Harry frowned at him briefly and grabbed his glasses from beside his pillow and hurriedly pushed them on, “You know what I mean,” he said bitterly.

“I want…” This was the moment, the do or die moment. Draco had to grapple with the very intense urge to turn around and walk right back to his bed and pretend this had all been a fever dream prompted by bad cheese. He swallowed hard, going to the root of the matter which was one word and thus much easier to manage than a whole sentence, “Apologize.”

“You-?” Harry started. There was a rustling behind them, the sort that precludes a late night visit to the loo and Harry grabbed Draco’s nightshirt, pulling him into the confines of his four poster and closing the curtains with a hasty flick.  Draco heard Harry cast a muffliato and then a lumos, lighting them in pale blue light. “You came to apologize?”

Draco nodded stiffly.

“To me?” Harry pointed at himself.

“Who else would I be doing it too?” Draco said getting a little annoyed.

Harry looked shocked, “But  _why_?”

Draco stared at him, his brows very slowly drawing together in confusion.

“ _I’m_  the one that snuck into your bed when you were asleep,” Harry went on, scrubbing one hand in the hair at his temple, “ _I’m_  the one that took advantage of the situation to- to-” he stopped, a flush rising on his cheeks.

“That’s why you ran off?” Draco asked.

“You thought you were dreaming!” Harry snapped.

Draco stared at him, fighting a growing flush on his cheeks.

Harry sighed and looked down at his hands, rolling his wand between his fingers with a faint frown.

Draco had to look away to even conceive of speaking, staring first at the shadowed curtains and then just closing his eyes altogether, “I dream of you quite often.”

“You do?” Harry asked faintly.

“In about half of them, I am trying to speak with you, to apologize but you can’t seem to hear me or even see me,” Draco said.

“Oh…”

Draco licked his lips and went on doggedly, “In the other half, there are… quite like what happened this morning…” he flushed,  _not_  thinking about how those dreams usually ended, “ …It was just- it seemed too good to be true.”

“You… aren’t mad?” Harry asked hesitantly.

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes, “I literally just said this morning was a dream come true, you absolute pillock. I was  _trying_  to  _avoid_  saying cliché garbage.”

Harry cracked a smile, “I rather think I like cliché garbage.”

“You would,” Draco muttered.

Harry shrugged absently, staring at Draco with an intensity that made him uncomfortable.

Draco glanced at the curtains again, “I should… go.” He hesitated, glancing back at Harry and then grabbed the edge of the curtain.

A hand curled around his other wrist. “You don’t have to,” Harry said.

Draco let himself follow Harry’s hand, his heartbeat stuttered in his chest making him feel out of breath, “What should I do then?” Draco asked, forcing his hand to unclench enough to let go of the curtain.

Harry relaxed once he realized Draco wasn’t going to leave.“Well, you could tell me about your dreams.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, “Which ones?”

“Either,” Harry shrugged, “Both.”

Draco smothered his grimace and focused on the fact that Harry hasn’t let go of his wrist, “I’m fairly certain I already said, though it doesn’t surprise me you weren’t listening.”

“It doesn’t surprise me you’re being an arse,” Harry responded with a brief eye roll. His grip tightened slightly on Draco’s wrist, his thumb drawing out along Draco’s pulse point and back again in a slow easy rhythm. “I don’t understand why you would dream about apologizing to me. You already did. You apologized to everyone.”

“Those were… just letters,” Draco said with a faint frown. He stared down where their hands met, his skin looking so pale against Harry’s sun kissed olive complexion, his frown deepened, “I have… always wished to say-” his brow twitched, “-to say the words aloud to you.”

He watched as Harry slid his hand down, slipping his fingers around Draco’s with a gentle squeeze.

Draco swallowed hard, not daring to look up, “I-” his voice broke and he cleared it quickly with a flush of embarrassment, “I’m sorry… for everything.”

“So am I,” Harry said quietly, “Especially for what happened in the bathroom in sixth year.”

A sickly smile crept onto his face, “Can’t I didn’t deserve it, considering what I was doing.” Draco saw Harry’s jaw clench and looked away, waiting for him to loosen his grip, “Why are we even doing this?”

“Because I want to,” Harry said a little angrily, “I’ve had enough of doing what everyone else wants.”

Draco looked and found Harry looking at him with such intensity it made him shiver. He found himself nodded in agreement, although their experiences were on the opposite sides Draco was absolutely sick to death of who he was  _supposed_  to be.

Harry went on, “I don’t like what you did in the war but I understand why you had to do it. I understand that you were made to be Malfoy in the same way I was made to be the boy who lived. We did what we had to try and stay alive but-” his voice went quiet, “-we don’t have to do that anymore.”

“so now we can do what we want,” Draco said and smirked, “I suppose that includes sneaking into people’s beds in the middle of the night?”

“I thought you said-!”

“I was talking about  _myself_ ,” Draco cut him off with an impatient gesture to their surroundings, “I’d say we are about even when it comes to uninvited late-night rendezvous.”

Harry grinned, “Well, almost. I  _did_  kiss you. So it’s a bit uneven on that end.” He looked hopeful, a bit nervous and, as Draco pulled his hand free, uncertain as well.

Draco shifted closer, feeling as if he might die from being so completely overwhelmed. He cupped both hands around Harry’s face and kissed him, hoping rather pointlessly that Harry wouldn’t notice how much he was shaking.

Harry clutched at Draco’s nightshirt, his other hand wrapping around Draco’s forearm as if to hold him there. Draco let himself be pulled in and drown in the warmth of Harry’s kiss, the sweetness of his mouth. They kissed until they were both shaking and clinging to each other, not ready to let go.

Harry’s face hovered close to Draco’s, eyes closed as if he were trying to commit everything that had happened to memory. Draco brushed his thumb over Harry’s cheek, sliding his hand along his chin and down his neck, the skin there so much softer, thinner. When he paused he could feel Harry’s pulse thundering just beneath the surface, his fingertips brushing through the short hair at the nape of his neck.

Draco felt Harry let out a huff, the warm air brushing his chin, and found Harry watching him, smiling when their eyes met.

“Would you stay?” Harry asked, “I rather liked sleeping with you last time.”

“ _I_  was sleeping, you were being  _annoying,_ ” Draco sniffed. He sighed, reaching up to halfheartedly comb Harry’s hair through his fingers. One eyebrow twitched up as his hair immediately went back to the exact same state of unruliness as before he touched it.

Harry laughed at his expression, grabbing hold of Draco’s shirt and pulling gently, “Come on, I’ll be good this time.”

Draco smiled and shook his head. “I highly doubt that,” he said grabbing the edge of the blanket and pulling it up. Harry took his glasses off and they wriggled underneath it, legs tangling together, foreheads touching to share the one pillow.

Rumor has it they were found together the next morning and the morning after that and the morning after that… but who believes rumors?

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you like it would you consider leaving a comment? You don't have to if you feel uncomfortable, I'm just feeling particularly needy and uncertain right now. Thank you for reading though! I really appreciate it❤


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